Shut Your Mouth
by xxSpade's Ace
Summary: It's a common occurrence when Shawn pisses off Carlton and ends up being man-handled. What's not so common is for Shawn to kiss him. And it's certainly not common for Carlton to kiss back and bring Shawn back to his place for...ahem...lunch. Yummy Shassie!
1. Chapter 1

Rating: M

Pairing: Shassie

**T**his particular piece was inspired by a very sexy picture by FerioWind on deviantArt.  
( feriowind .deviantart com/ gallery/? offset=24#/ d4u8wiw take out the spaces!)

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Lassiter's icy blues narrowed just half a second before large hands gripped Shawn at the shoulders, all the warning he got before finding himself thrown bodily against the wall in the long hallway to the examination rooms (surprisingly empty for a Friday night). Shawn grinned up at him as one of Lassiter's knees found its way in between his thighs dominantly. It was a veiled threat to a _very_ sensitive area, but of course Shawn wasn't thinking along _those_ lines—not with his bawdy mind and lingering crush on the superior detective.

Oh, sure, he'd tried as hard as he was able to push away those feelings for a _guy_, another (superbly attractive and respected and powerful and sexy) human that just so happened to have similar anatomy. The trouble was, even when he was with Abigail, even with _Jules_, Lassiter never really left his mind. Shawn pulled himself out of an inner monologue as the breath was pushed from his lungs when Lassie pulled him forward and slammed him to the wall again.

"Spencer!" Lassiter snapped, feeling his anger increase as he saw the faux psychic's green eyes fairly dancing in amusement. "When the hell are you going to skip town for a bit and give me a break?"

"Aww, Lassie, I kinda like what I have here." Shawn replied with his ever-present (and infuriating, according to Lassiter) grin. "You like it too! Why else would you use any excuse to put me up against walls, I wonder?" He batted his eyes dramatically, somehow managing to keep a smirk inside as Lassiter's lip curled up in disgust. He knew it was for show; there was no way the constant man-handling of him, just him, as in not anyone else, meant nothing. Maybe it was subconscious, but Shawn knew how to read body language. His ever-loyal Lassie touched him a hell of a lot more than anyone else he claimed to dislike.

Then there was the fact of the half-erection that had started digging into his ass when Shawn had decided to plop himself down in Lassie's lap after the impromptu "dance" during the Dazzle and Stretch incident. No wonder he'd so coldly commanded Shawn to get off his lap. He refocused his ever-wandering attention again to the man as those lips he really, _really_ wanted to lick began moving.

"Not even in your dreams, Spencer. I have better taste than to want anything to do with a fraud who mocks the respectable work of the police force."

_Is that so, Lassie?_ Shawn thought confidently. He fisted his hands in the gray lapels of the head detective's suit and jerked him forward.

In retrospect, Lassiter really should've seen that move coming.

His hands braced against the wall on either side of Shawn's head, mid-rant and mouth open, as Shawn pulled him into a lusty, open-mouthed kiss, sliding his tongue across the man's lower lip before slipping it into his gasping mouth. Despite his reckless action, he was mildly surprised when his head was knocked backwards (for the third time) against the wall from the force of Lassiter's returning enthusiasm. He could imagine Lassiter's fingers turning white as he gripped the wall forcefully, even as he trapped Shawn there against it and his unexpectedly muscled body.

Shawn had had no idea the uptight detective was so damn _solid._ It aroused him almost as much as the aggression and ferocity in Lassiter's possessive kiss.

Lassiter seemed to understand; his knee pressed up gently against Shawn's growing hard-on and he had to wonder how in the nine levels of hell Victoria had left such a sexy man with such kissing ability and teasing skill. The psychic made a soft, pleased noise as he bumped his hips against Lassiter's in a provocative rhythm, grinding on his leg for a maddeningly wonderful friction. Kissing the head detective was unlike anything from his lewd fantasies and raunchy dreams; the lust that seemed to be radiating through his entire body made him weak, prone to any little whim of Lassiter's, even if it was finally shutting him up like he wanted—like forcing Shawn to his knees and shoving his cock down his throat.

Shawn surprised himself by making an eager little whimper at the thought of his mouth being fucked by the obviously _large_ erection Lassiter was sporting, pressed against his side. His imagination slid to the idea of bending over for Lassie—no, he wouldn't bend over. Lassiter would want to see his face as he shoved that giant, throbbing cock into his tight hole and fucked him into an orgasmic oblivion, making him scream his name and come so hard he would—

The sudden loss of sinfully delicious heat and firm, work-toned body sent Shawn's head spinning in a direction that wasn't nearly as pleasant as it had been from the kissing, almost sending him to the floor had he not roughly pinned. His own eyes gazed into Lassiter's dilated and lust-darkened blue. Their chests were rising and falling quickly with the shallow pants, a single strand of saliva still connecting their mouths. He felt a smirk curve his lips at the frustrated expression on Lassiter's face and licked his lower lip teasingly.

"Why don't we continue this—"

"I'm not going to screw you in the middle of the station, Spencer." Lassiter scoffed. He leaned back in, too slowly, and brushed his wet lips against the curve of Shawn's ear. "If you really want it, you'll have to come home with me for lunch in fifteen minutes."

Oh, sweet baby J in a pineapple smoothie, _the_ Carlton Lassiter was inviting _the_ fake psychic Shawn Spencer to his house for a round (_or two!_ his brain shrieked excitedly) of hot, wild sex that would undoubtedly leave Shawn unable to sit for the next few days.

Shawn let out a shaky breath as Lassiter traced the shell of his ear with his tongue. "Oh, God, _yes_."

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Ooooh, slashy Shassie sexy times...! ;D  
Thanks to ff. net enforcing their "omfg no explicit sexxeh times!" rule, you will be able to find chapter two on my livejournal within the next week. There's a lot of "real-life" stuff I need to be working on, including making a resume to get my life back on track after beating cancer, so I'll need a little time to type it out and perfect it as much as I can.

Ah, yes, the link to my livejournal is as follows: **www. ****xxspadesace. livejournal .com  
**I recommend taking out the spaces for the link to work properly. ;)


	2. Chapter 2

The drive to Carlton's house resulted in four almost-accidents because of Carlton's jerky movements and twitching as Shawn leaned way, way over in his seat and panted in Carlton's ear, telling him all kinds of downright filthy things to do to him while he was handcuffed or otherwise incapacitated. All kinds of things they could do in the car, forever staining the dark felt seats so Carlton would never forget how tight Shawn was. All kinds of things Shawn could do with his mouth and more he was willing to learn. All kinds of ways Shawn could bend; how flexible he was. His handle on the steering wheel was too tight—his hands were really starting to hurt, but all he could imagine was relaxing them by spanking Shawn until delighted tears marked the younger man's face in pain, the red blush of hand prints.

When they were finally in the driveway (parked crookedly), Carlton pulled himself out of his precious car and seemed to suddenly appear at the passenger side. He yanked the door open and hauled Shawn out by his forearm roughly enough the psychic let out a small yelp of pain. It was cut off as he was forced down onto the hood while Carlton grinded slowly into his hips.

_The _neighbors_, Carlton, get your shit together! _The detective mentally slapped sense into himself, taking a moment to grit his teeth and gain (some level of) patience, and half-dragged Shawn to the front door of the gray house. There was a momentary thought of how confused Shawn must have been, what with shoving him here and slamming him there, only to pull him along to another spot. It didn't matter. He was going to fuck that sweet ass through the floor—or the wall, or the kitchen counter, or the mattress, or wherever they ended up after Carlton was finished actually ripping their clothes off. His cock was hot and tenting the crotch of his pants noticeably; the aroused trepidation on Shawn's face as he stared long and hard at it told Carlton that yes, good sir, the psychic wondered if he would be able to actually handle that long, long length and halfway didn't care. Saying he didn't give a fuck would've been incorrect, of course—it was obvious Shawn was about to give as many fucks as Carlton wanted and his body could stand…and then some.

Carlton's slightly shaking hands drove the key into the lock on the second fumble, and it was only two seconds before the door was thrown open hard enough to bash into the wall and Shawn to be almost literally thrown through the doorway.

If it was rough Carlton wanted, then it was rough Carlton certainly got. Shawn couldn't deny his thrill at being handled so forcefully by the Irishman; his own dick was aching in his jeans that were too tight for any pleasant sort of discomfort.

It was Shawn that pushed Carlton against the wall this time, but it didn't last as Carlton flipped them immediately and grabbed Shawn's ass, lifting him up slightly. Shawn wrapped his legs around the older man tightly while unbuttoning the blue cotton work shirt encasing the chest he wanted to bite. He attached his lips to the sharp angle of the detective's collarbone the moment it was exposed, smirking when he heard a groan. He sank his teeth into the thin skin momentarily, just enough for a little bit of pain, before sliding his smooth lips back up over Carlton's neck and jaw to kiss him again. The older man's tongue was immediately stroking Shawn's in an insistent rhythm that would've made Shawn's cock harder if it wasn't already more rigid than he'd ever experienced. The fact that Carlton's own erection was like titanium and pulsing in his pants was the hottest thing Shawn had experienced in his life (so far!), but that thought quickly disappeared as he felt the cock pressed against him jump eagerly as Shawn wrapped his lips around Carlton's tongue and sucked.

Oh, ye gods, the promising suction of that hot, hot mouth dripping wet and encasing his engorged cock was almost enough to practically rape Shawn right there against the wall, preparation be damned. Carlton wanted that slick tongue, those soft and pouty lips, that intense mouth _all over_ his throbbing hard-on, sucking and licking and moaning and caressing and, yes, slightly gagging as Carlton fucked his throat.

It stood, in his horny mind, as reasonable to pull away from Shawn and force him onto his knees and begin fumbling with the zipper of his pants.

It _also_ stood, in his horny mind, as _fucking fantastic_ that Shawn brushed his hands away impatiently and yanked the zipper and pants down himself before dragging his tongue up the sizeable bulge in the boxer briefs. Carlton grabbed the broad shoulders to steady himself. It'd been too long since he'd been given a blow job, let alone a good one.

Shawn pulled the boxers down eagerly, though he stopped short with wide eyes at the sight of finally seeing Lassie in all his glory. That was… That was at least eight inches. At least. And incredibly thick, twitching slightly at the look on Shawn's face.

Holy. Shit. There was _no_ way he was going to be able to suck him deep down his throat, maybe not even half because of the girth.

…of course, that didn't mean he wasn't going to try. The psychic thrived on a challenge, especially one as sexy as this!

The clear drop of pre-come at the purple-red tip of the older man's cock began to slide leisurely down towards the shaft. Shawn used just the tip of his tongue to lick it up slowly, enjoying the gruff, impatient breath that rushed out of Carlton at the contact.

"Lassie, you are…" Shawn trailed off with a nearly reverential shake of his head. Lassie _knew_ what he was, and he now understood just why his confidence was never really shaken, no matter how badly Shawn embarrassed him. Shawn wasn't small (or even average) either, but there was no one on this green Earth that could've blamed Lassiter if he went around boasting.

A large hand pressed into the back of his head encouragingly. Shawn gazed up at Carlton beneath his lashes with a seductive quirk of his lips, then gave him what he was waiting for; his slick tongue ran up the broad shaft teasingly, circled the head, and finally closed his wet lips before sliding down ever so slightly and sucking gently. The glazed lust in Carlton's piercing eyes spurred the private detective to carefully take more of that massive length into his mouth, illogically proud as he relaxed his throat enough to push the pulsing heat by his gag reflex. Carlton let out a quiet, shaking groan as his hips twitched of their own accord.

Sweet justice help him, his knees actually shook as Shawn moaned, the vibrations humming along his dick and pushing another pleased noise out of his mouth. The blow job was going to have to wait for another time, as wonderful as it was—there was a sweet, tight ass to be ravished thoroughly, a world to be rocked, and a fake psychic to be made screaming his name.


End file.
